#i am not a people person and this feels flawsome

[delcat177]

This is real even offline. I don't think the patterns and mannerisms of the "FUCK YOU I'M RIGHT"/"NO FUCK YOU I'M RIGHT" of social media has been good to us, in the faintest possible phrasing.

idk when we decided that explaining yourself shouldn't be part of an apology but like. if someone was a dick to me and apologizes but I still don't understand why they did it I'm not gonna feel any better

[alison-anonymous]

flawsome bandits pt. 9 ♡ sonic

Flawsome Security

I AM BACK!!! This chapter may be a bit short, but it’s just because this is the second half of the story and I needed to introduce some new concepts! 

I have brought you all some more Flawsome Bandits for you special little darlings <3 I got a little excited and wrote an entire plot line for the rest of this story in a day, and I just finished writing this part tonight! So the next update might come soon, the next chapter is a bit more complicated so I still have to figure out how to write it. I hope you all enjoy this new chapter, and please let me know if there is anything or anyone you would like to see in the chapters to come! I love you all and please let me know what you think! 

Warnings - some hEaRtWrEnChInG fluff 

♡♡♡

Five months later…

If Y/n had to pick one period of her life where everything was perfect, it would be this one.

It had been five months since the great attack between Y/n, Sonic, and Dr. Robotnik had occurred and no one had seen or heard a thing about the crazy man in ages. While Y/n and Sonic had been staying in isolation inside the Wachowski residence, the government was sweeping the streets and subtly interrogating citizens in order to see if they had any knowledge of their whereabouts. After a couple of months, they eventually gave up and plopped the case into the cold. Once things were finally deemed safe, and after a thorough inspection by Tom, Y/n and Sonic were able to roam about Green Hills freely again. 

You would think that the people would freak out a little bit whenever they saw two alien hedgehogs walking down the streets, cracking weird jokes and singing or zipping around the place. But they actually saw the two as their own special town heroes; like they had their own unique Superman and Superwoman. Y/n was even asked to start helping Crazy Carl again in his notorious escapades of eliminating all the racoons, who he claimed were secretly geniuses and were rummaging through our trash to find anything valuable to power their supercomputers. 

I mean… he was right about Sonic, so why not give him a chance?

Sonic was even asked to help around the bakeries and grocers with some doordash delivery services, making some extra cash for his Less Than 3 Seconds delivery service. He liked to brag about the fact that he could take literally anything from the store and hardly anyone would bat an eye. This also meant that anytime Y/n even mentioned that she needed something, he would disappear and then be back in a blink holding that exact thing. With Sonic and Y/n being able to make some extra cash helping around, it encouraged Tom and Maddie to work even harder at their jobs as well. Tom reclaimed his throne as Green Hills’ favorite cop, and Maddie went back to the pet hospital. The shared strange experiences that the four had encountered only proceeded to bond them together to form an even tighter family than they ever were before. Tom and Maddie had to admit that it did take them a while to get used to Y/n’s true form, but they loved every inch of her and were simply happy that she was happy. 

Of course, enrolling them into public school was still a huge no, so they kept up the homeschooling as well. Knowing Sonic, he caught up to Y/n super fast, and it wasn’t too long before the two were helping each other Quick Study using flash cards and exercising at the same time. Speaking of their relationship, Tom had finally listened to Maddie and backed off a little bit to give room for their relationship to flourish. Because hey, if Y/n’s boyfriend was living under his roof, then he could control him like a puppet if he ever did anything to hurt her, right? 

But… there was one teeny tiny, itsy bitsy little problem. 

Y/n and Sonic never talked about… that night. You know. When they said “I love you.” Of course, they had always planned on it. But they were never quite able to find the right time. Just as they were about to get ready for the talk, Tom or Maddie would walk in or they would suddenly remember needing to do something and race off without even thinking. Maybe they were subconsciously intentionally avoiding the subject. It was a pretty intense conversation after all, and the damper as to whether or not the other had changed their mind always remained a prominent issue. 

Fear is very debilitating, you know.

But their feelings were growing stronger by the day. Every second that they spent with one another was a moment that they never wanted to end. This evening was one of those moments.

Tom and Maddie had been invited out to dinner with some of Tom’s work buddies and their wives, so while they were out drinking finely aged wine and trying to figure out what the best angle was to bite on some cheese bread, Y/n and Sonic had the house to themselves. 

Of course, Ozzy was their chaperone.

The two had planned an amazing afternoon of relaxation by plucking out a huge pile of movies to watch until they passed out from exhaustion. Most of them consisted of horribly rated horror movies so that they could make fun of them, while others consisted of action and romcoms that you just had to watch one more time. They had decided to take a break to make themselves a nice and healthy dinner, just like Tom and Maddie had wanted them to. It ended up looking more like an ice cream sundae, filled with (favorite ice cream), banana slices, sprinkles, chocolate syrup, waffle cookies, and a bunch of other stuff that Sonic had thrown in there. 

“Oh, damnit,” Y/n sighed as she stood on the kitchen counter, arms holding the cabinet doors open. “We don’t have any Eggos.”

“Fret not, M’Lady,” Sonic cried dramatically from his spot on the kitchen island. His green eyes sparkled with excitement as Y/n chuckled, her cheeks turning red at the nickname. He had gotten a bit too into the fantasy movie they had just finished watching. “Your hero is here!”

And in a blue flash, he was gone. In the time that it took Y/n to blink, he was already back, holding three packs of her favorite kind of Eggos in his arms. He tossed two of them in the fridge and held one package out to her proudly. 

“Why, thank you, Sonic,” she giggled, deciding to keep her mythical accent in order to please him. Her gloved hand brushed against his as she took the pack out of his hands, a little flicker of electricity excitedly floating across their skin at the contact. She quickly ripped it open and plopped two of the waffles onto the sundae, smiling proudly. 

“Dinner!” 

Another dozen switched positions on the couch and two more movies in, Y/n and Sonic finally ended up settling on The Conjuring. Their bellies were full of junk food and were covered up with soft blankets as they huddled together. There were a few jumpscared that actually got Y/n, but for the most part the only tension came from the decreasing distance between the two hedgehogs. Just as the credits were rolling across the screen, Sonic had wrapped his arm around Y/n’s shoulders in a totally casual manner. They listened silently to the eerie music as the actors went floating up the darkened screen. Ozzy lay passed out on the floor in front of them, next to the coffee table that held all of their dirty dishes. Y/n’s heart began to pound and her stomach felt like it was going to crawl up and spew out of her mouth as she finally turned her head to face Sonic. 

“Hey, Son…?” 

“Yeah?” He turned to her, the darkened screen making his emerald eyes grow paranormally in the dark. Hers were doing the same. They scooted away just an inch or two so that they were facing one another, Sonic’s arm still splayed across the back of the couch as he looked at her with curious, yet affectionate eyes. Y/n cleared her throat, trying to figure out how she wanted to begin this. It was now or never, right? And they had already waited for quite some time.

“I… I know that we never really talked about… um… you know,” she silently kicked herself for making things so awkward, but her nerves were getting the better of her. She could practically feel her tail shaking behind her. “I meant what I said. And I need to know if you did too…” Her heart was pounding so rapidly she could barely think over the sound, nerves skyrocketing through the roof. E/c eyes began to fill with a mixture of hope and fear as she looked up into Sonic’s emerald ones. His mouth opened and shut like a fish, void of any sound. She could only fear the worst… he didn’t mean it. He didn’t care about her the way that she did about him, did he? He secretly hated h-

“Of course I meant it! Y/n, I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I guess I just never really realized it until now,” He gave her a sheepish smile, his seriousness being a completely new side of him that only ever came out when he was sincere about something. Y/n felt the butterflies go nuts in her stomach, a blush rising across her cheeks. “I think we both know that we’re kind of entirely new to this, but I was just afraid to ruin things between us. We’ve been running for most of our lives, never really having a place to call our home. But throughout all of the hard times and adventures we’ve been through, you were the one constant. Whenever I look at you…” Sonic’s emerald gaze softened as a loving smile game across his lips. “I’m home.”

A huge grin took over Y/n’s face, her eyes beginning to fill with tears of happiness. “Sonic… you’re my home, too.” Before he had a chance to say more beautiful things to make her heart melt, she threw her arms around his furry neck and buried her head in his neck. Sonic was quick to return the gesture, wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her tightly. It felt like cloud nine being there with one another, knowing that they felt the same. That they would make things work just like they always did. They fat together like two pieces of a puzzle; the one person that they could never get tired of. The one person that they loved everything about. The one person who was their home. Home never truly was just one place, was it? 

It was them. 

“Okay, okay,” Y/n slowly breathed as they finally pulled apart. She ran a nervous gloved hand through her quills and gave him a bashful smile. “We’ll take things slow? Since we’re so new to this and everything.” Sonic eagerly nodded.

“Yes! I mean, yeah sure,” he attempted to play it cool by leaning back against the couch, but his excitement remained ever present in his eyes every time he looked at her. “Slow. Oh, and um, how are we going to make sure Donut Lord doesn’t kill me?” 

Y/n giggled, moving closer to her partner and snuggling up into his side. Sonic happily obliged by wrapping his one arm around her and pulling her closer into him. The warmth of his body heat made her never want to leave as she hummed softly to lift the TV remote over to hand. 

“You let me take care of that. By the way, Conjuring? Yay or nay?” 

“Oh my god, don’t even get me started! First of all, every single person in here is suffering from an extreme lack of Snickers. Like seriously. They just ain’t themselves when they’re hungry.” 

♡♡♡

At around eleven o’clock, Maddie and Tom Wachowski quietly slipped through their front door. After the very interesting dinner with their friends, the gang had wanted to go out and get some drinks. Seeing no way out of it, they decided to tag along. It was only when Wade tried to strip and ride a mechanical bull at the same time that they called it a night. They knew Y/n and Sonic well enough to figure that they would have passed out on the couch watching movies, and their suspicions were confirmed when they saw the TV still flashing scenes from Dead Silence across the quiet living room. 

The couple quietly made their way into the hall and peered into the room to see the two hedgehogs passed out on the couch. Sonic lay on his back with his arms wrapped around Y/n, whose head rested on his chest and her legs were splayed across the other half of the couch. The sight was so adorable that it brought Maddie back to her young love days as she pressed a hand against her chest. A smile formed across her face as she watched the steady rise and fall of their breathing. Unfortunately, Tom was not quite as happy.

“W-what the hell?” His grip on their leftovers tightened as he stared daggers at Sonic’s arm wrapped tightly around his daughter’s waist. “Please tell me I’m dreaming.”

“Oh, come on, Tom,” Maddie playfully smacked him in the chest. “They’re just kids. They’ve known each other their whole life, remember?” Tom let out a defeated huff, but his lips were still edged in a frown.

“But… that’s my daughter right there. And that’s a boy. With his arm. Doing things.” He turned to stare intensely at his wife. “Things I don’t like.”

Maddie laughed quietly at his expression, and grabbed his arm to tug him with her into the kitchen. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to take off these high heels that feel like nails and take a nice long bath while you put the leftovers away and raid the icebox to see if we still have those macaroons the kids got us for Valentine’s day.” She pecked him on the cheek, a warm smile floating across her lips as she looked him in the eyes. “Okay?”

“Y-yes ma’am.” Years of being married, and Maddie was still able to catch him off guard.

♡♡♡

A couple hours later, the house had fallen completely silent. Even Ozzy’s snoring had ceased to an open mouthed whistle as he lay on his stomach, belly exposed to the air of the living room. Maddie and Tom lay fast asleep under the covers of their bed, and Y/n and Sonic remained asleep on the couch. Everything was silent until a slow, melodic tune floated through the air. 

Y/n stirred on Sonic’s chest. She unconsciously buried her head deeper into his fur in an attempt to float back into the REM cycle. But the tune came once again, this time more forcefully. Demanding attention. When it realized Y/n was still asleep, it wafted through the air, this time louder.

Y/n’s e/c eyes popped open. She gulped, recognizing the sound instantly. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Last time she acknowledged the sound, it shot her on a brand new adventure in which she almost lost the love of her life. She turned her head back to Sonic’s chest, pointedly glaring at the air around her in hopes that whatever it was would get the hint. A couple of moments passed in silence, and her heartbeat finally slowed. Her eyelids gradually fluttered closed. 

Ah~, ah~...

♡ a.a.

[pitbull-tent]

Nature’s Fairy Lights//Poodull

Description: Pitbull and Poodle are very much in love and at camp… they just need to come to terms with it first

Possible triggers: fighting, an anxiety attack, and depressing thoughts.

You’re gonna want to grab some tissues.

Chapter 2: Mud Run

I awake to a cold spot in my bed, leaving me confused and searching for a few seconds. To be fair, it could’ve been the way to early “God Bless America” trumpet alarm, but I’m pretty sure it’s the cold spot. And then, it dawn upon me, as if I was that flag, that Poodle must’ve left sometime during the night.

I arise from the comfort of my blanket coffin- complete with pillows- groaning and stretching. I look over to see what the couple was up to, and was met with their morning kissing session- so I looked away very quickly. Instead, opting to grab a shirt and shorts and walking quickly to the bathroom.

I stare at myself in the very public mirror with dread. I hate changing in front of people. I have two options at this point. Get dressed quickly right now, or wait for one of the bathroom stalls to open. This isn’t a hard choice.

While I wait for someone to finish getting changed, I think about last night. Why would Poodle come over to my cabin? Why would they wrap their arms around me like that? They obviously only think of me as a friend. Do I think of them as a friend? Two days ago the answer would 100% be yes. After yesterday, though, I’m not so sure. Maybe I’m kinda sorta really definitely in love with Poodle. Maybe. What a wild thought. I can’t seem to trust my brain these days.

A stall is finally open, and I hurry to it before it’s taken again. I get dressed quickly and hurry out of the stall. I stand in front of a full body mirror to get a good look at my outfit.

I’m wearing an oversized yellow sweater with a vintage NASA logo printed on the front. It’s coupled with some ripped skinny jeans and a lilac beanie. I take my tired hands and tuck my sweater in the front for fashion reasons. I have to wear my glasses today, as I forgot my contacts at home. My white converse on as always. I ruffle my hair a bit and head back to my cabin.

I look up at the sky as I make my way. Looks and smells like it might rain. Glancing around the campus, I see Poodle waving at me over to them. I turn baby pink, instantly reminded of last night. I let out a breath before walking over.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Their voice still has that sleepy droop to it.

They take a sip from the unicorn mug of tea in their hands. Their eyes are half opened as they look at me. The sun is behind them, giving them an interstellar glow. Honestly, how could you not fall in love with someone like that. Right now, I’d love nothing more than to grab the collar of their shirt, pull them in, and-

“O-oh yeah. I did. How about you?” I stutter out when I realize that they’re still waiting for my answer.

“Better because I was with you.” They hum, taking another sip of their tea like they didn’t just say that. I feel the heat begin to rise to my cheeks from the warmth in my stomach that they make me feel, and I have to fight back an actual giggle. You know who giggles? People that are in love, and I’m definitely NOT that.

Poodle POV

I can’t believe I just did that. I’m FLIRTING and I think I’m doing okay at it. If I could keysmash right now, I would.

Good lord, I hope they like me. I mean, they blushed, so I guess that’s a good sign. I take a deep breath of the wild, calming my nerves and trying to keep my cool the best I can.

“Smells nice, doesn’t it?” Pitbull asks me after I take my breath. Keep your cool Poodle, keep your cool.

“Not as good as you.” I reply. Uh oh, that was bad, wasn’t it. Please god say it worked, say it worked. I’ve been waiting for a year to get them to like me.

They blush slightly, looking away. I have to physically refrain myself from fist bumping the air because I just did that like a pro. Heck yeah. So, I just opt for another sip of my cinnamon tea. Because I’m cool. Yeah.

“Whatever.” They mumble in defeat from my one hit KO. Mortal Kombat who? Sorry, I only know myself.

“Would you like me to escort you to your cabin?” I politely offer, my mother’s teachings showing.

“No, It’s fine. I wouldn’t want to trouble you.” They reply hesitantly, their voice reminding me of honey when you’re deprived of sugar.

“I insist.” I push, really wanting to spend as much time as possible with them, craving their presence as an addict craves drugs.

After this, they give in. Another point for the smooth talker.

We walk in comfortable silence, only the birds making noise around us. I hold my unicorn mug expertly with my right hand while I use my left to grasp Pitbull’s hand like the romancer that I am.

I place my fingers between theirs in a way that one would call interlocked. Their skin softer than the velveteen rabbit I dragged through the dirt as a kid. I can feel their slight hesitation, but they ultimately decide against pulling away, pulling my hand closer instead.

“Want some tea? It’s cinnamon.” I ask in an attempt to stop myself from jumping in joy. I move my mug towards them in a way to tell them that I’m not taking no for an answer. They just roll their eyes, blush, and nod, taking the warm drink from me.

I’m not going to lie, I missed the warmth of the mug, but it was worth it to see Pitbull hold it. Even the way they hold a mug is perfect. How is that even possible? It’s probably because I’m absolutely smitten for them.  They are absolutely flawsome.

The way their face perks up in delight when they taste the drink makes my knees weak. Their eyebrows raise slightly in surprise and their eyes twinkle lightly.

“This is amazing, you’re going to have to teach me how to make it sometime.” They practically moan. I didn’t think the drink was that good, but okay.

“Anything for you.” I reply simply, the words slipping without much thought or effort, earning me yet another sweet blush.

Before I can even comprehend it, they’re handing me the mug back, and I blink twice before I take it, nodding my head in thanks and winking at them. I don’t know why I winked, but there’s no going back now.

“God.” they mumble under their breath, still blushing. I furrow my brows. Did I make them uncomfortable?

“Why are you talking about yourself in the third person?” I’m concerned now, but I don’t know why I just said what I did.

They mumble something under their breath that sounds scarily like “I just love you so much.” but I heard wrong, right?

“What did you say?” I ask, confused.

“I, uh, just l-loathe your lunch.” They stutter out, clearly lying, but I’m not going to call them out on it.

“What did my lunch ever do to you?” I joke before we fall back into silence. Man, I didn’t even get a laugh out of them. It must’ve been a bad joke, but only Jesus will ever know.

And God, apparently.

We reach the doors of Pitbull’s cabin sooner than expected, and I’m disappointed to say the least. I wanted more time with them, I really did, but it looks like time is something I’ll never have enough of.

“We’re here.” They say, turning to me and letting go of my hand.

“We are.” I reply, confused as to what they’re waiting for.

And then it hits me. They probably want a kiss on the cheek or something.

I lean forward and peck their cheek before walking away. I turn back to wave, but they’re already gone, so I just shrug and continue walking.

Pitbull POV

I stumble back into my cabin, face still flushed. The second I shut the door behind me, I hear Turquoise laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” I try to sound mad, but honestly I’m too swept up in my thoughts to care.

“Who’s the lucky duck?” Turquoise giggles, throwing their shirt over their head.

“What? No I’m not- I mean, they’re not- We’re not-” I spit out, feeling my face turning even more red than it already was.

“Oh trust me Pit, I know that look on your face all too well. You’re in love.” Maroon chimes in, running a brush through their hair nonchalantly.

I sigh, not wanting to argue anymore. Half because I’m still tired and half because they’re completely correct, even if I don’t want to believe it yet.

I lay face first on the bottom bunk of my bed, too full of butterflies to care. It’s not like they’d like me anyways.

“Of course they’ll like you hun.” Turquoise says, and my face heats up again. Apparently I’ve been thinking aloud.

“Probably not.” I deny, rolling towards the wall instead of them.

“Have you asked them?” Maroon adds on in a motherly tone.

“No.” I stubbornly admit after a few moments of silence, and I can hear them both sigh and exchange a look.

“Then what are you sitting here for! Go admit your love before I admit it for you!” Maroon yells to me, throwing their pillow at me to make a point. I can physically feel Turquoise’s eyes roll.

I get up slowly, putting emphasis on the fact that I don’t want to. And Maroon throws another pillow at me to get me to hurry out the door. Which works, I’m not gonna lie.

The morning air hits my face yet again when I open up the door and shut it quickly, not wanting to get hit again. I take a deep breath and walk towards the pavilion, figuring that I’ll have to go there for announcements eventually. I’m aware that I’m completely ignoring their advice, but I’m not sure if I’m ready yet. I mean, I’m not even sure about my emotions, let alone coming to terms with them.

Before I can think much, I’ve arrived at my destination. The pavilion is completely empty, spare for a few old wrappers. I sigh, preparing for the wait ahead of me.

I’m totally spaced out, thinking about Poodle. Do they really like me? Do I like them? What was last night about? Why are they so freaking cute? Why is it that everytime I see them, do I want to-

A hand on my shoulder snaps me out of my thoughts, as well as scaring me half to death.

“Oh, sorry! Did I scare you?” My heart stops. That’s not Poodle’s voice, like I was expecting. It was too rough to be Poodle’s voice.

I turn, and am met with the most intense green eyes. Not a good kind of intense, like the forest in the middle of the spring, but like the sun shining through ice. Eyes that could be kind, but in this moment of panic, I’m unable to read anything of the sorts.

“Uh-” I stutter, unsure of what to say.

“Pit! I’ve been looking for you!” My savior, Poodle, yells, and I completely ignore the stranger as they jog up to where I’m stuck to the ground.

I’m sure it’s only because of my relief, but my eyes show me an unearthly glow that surrounds them. A glow that’s soft and faint, but clearly there. I blink a few times, and it disappears. And, yet, the image burns against my eyelids, and I can’t seem to get rid of it.

“Who’s your friend?” Poodle asks, with a hint of jealousy in their voice.  Why would they be jealous? They collapse down next to me with a huff.

“Corgi.” The mysterious stranger says after glancing between the two of us. “You?”

“Poodle.” They say after looking Corgi up and down slowly, asserting dominance without T posing. Corgi looks at me expectantly.

“Pitbull.” I say sweetly, putting my hand out to shake. They don’t take it, dear lord. This is awkward.

I put my hand down even more awkwardly while Poodle and Corgi have a staring contest, clearing my throat when I begin to feel too uncomfortable.

“Are you ready for the mud run?” Somebody else says, joining the conversation. Completely oblivious to what just happened.

“The what?” Poodle questions, apparently the only sane one in this situation.

“It’s where we do a ropes course one by one in the mud.” They say cheerily and in a way that make Poodle seem stupid.

“Of which Bulldog and I will destroy you at.” Corgi pipes up, gesturing to the camper beside them, who I assume is Bulldog.

“Really? Don’t you have to be taller than 4’11 to do that, Corgster?” I growl, also crossing my arms, leaning closer to my challenger.

“Guys, stop.” Poodle interjets putting a hand on

“Say that to your stolen dogs.” They growl at Poodle, and a wave of protectiveness surges through me with some added adrenaline.

“Like you could steal anything, you couldn’t see over a rock if it moved.” I scoff, unsure of why I just did that, but you’ve gotta do what you gotta do to defend your dogs. At this, Corgi gets on their toes and goes to insult me back, their mouth open-

An alarm sounds off before things can get too heated, signalling breakfast.

“This isn’t finished.” Corgi barks, grabbing Bulldog and pulling them away. Bulldog rolls their eyes and puts their chin up, not giving us a second glance as they turn away

“What was that about?” Poodle asks, both angry and worried. Angry at the confrontation, worried about further ones.

“Nothing.” I reply simply, turning away from the duo and towards my partner.

“Whatever.” Poodle mumbles, rolling their eyes, clearly not looking to argue with me.

A tense silence ensues as we walk towards the cafeteria, unspoken words of anger between us. Adrenaline courses through my veins from the confrontation moments ago, blinding my senses.

In that moment, I irrationally decide to kiss Poodle’s cheek. Only god knows why I did it, but I don’t regret it. They stiffen up in surprise, and their face goes red. Oh no. I must’ve made them uncomfortable.

“Uh- I don’t know why I, I-I’m sorry, Poodle- I didn’t mean to make you upset-” I’m tripping over my words in embarrassment.

“No! It’s fine. I, uh, actually kinda liked it...” They trail off, looking down in embarrassment as they mutter the last part. Instead opting to kiss me on the cheek back to show that it’s okay.

“Oh.” I say in surprise, not expecting their velveteen lips to meet my skin so suddenly. Now I’m blushing.

Still not thinking straight because I’m too gay to function, I reach out and take Poodles hand in my own. I’m met with no resistance, which is the biggest relief to date. They move closer so our shoulders are touching as we walk. We don’t say anything, but I can tell the tension that was once between us has been obliterated. Gay love has truly pierced through the veil of death and saved the day.

Without words to focus on, though, my brain is racing with very… uh... un-platonic thoughts towards Poodle. But I’m not in love with them… right?

In this moment, my thoughts flashback to last year at camp, when Turquoise and Maroon were falling in love.

“They love me, they love me not.” I hear Maroon repeatedly say as they pick petals off of a rose.

“Who loves you?” I ask bluntly, causing Maroon to jump and blush.

“N-nobody.” I give them a stern look. “Turquoise...” They admit shyly, placing the picked flower down as I sit in front of them on the grass.

“What’re they like?” I ask sweetly, knowing how much of a hopeless romantic they are.

“They’re perfect, pibble. They’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” They get up and start to dance around. “Perfect Turquoise hair, like their name suggests. A hat and piercings that collide with my dress. Their eyes glimmer from the stars of a billion galaxies. Their personality perfectly intertwines with mine. They’re kind, reserved, passionate, incredible, and- ugh. The way their eyes light up when they talk about something they love makes me weak. The way they smile reminds me of sunshine peeking between the clouds. The way they talk, their voice. Even the way they carry themselves makes me sigh. They feel like my other half. They’re the Romeo to my Juliet, the Troy to my Gabriella, they’re my knight in shining armor, and I’m the damsel in distress. Everytime they look at me, I swear that time and the world both stop just to study us… no- the entire universe does.” They speak as if they are describing a dream.  

“But they probably don’t love me back.” They mumble in defeat as they lay back down on the ground, returning to reality.

“Have you asked?” I ask.

“Asked what?” They reply, reminded of my presence to their confession.

“If they do.” I state simply, confused as to why they don’t understand me when I’m being clear.

“Do what?” They inquire with mock innocence, and I catch onto the fact that they’re stalling.

“Love you.” I chuckle, amused by their inability to ask a simple question when they just became all Shakespeare on me.

“No, I don’t want to pester them.” They sigh, looking to the sky as if the universe was holding them away from their one true love.

“Then what are you doing over here? Go talk to them.” I abruptly say, getting up and stretching my hand out in a motion that says that they need to get up too.

“What? Are you serious?” They sputter, looking at me in utter shock.

“Did I stutter?” I reply sternly, and they reluctantly take my hand.

I tug them out of the meadow and onto the path through the forest. I don’t complain because I know that they’re nervous. No matter how much of a hopeless romantic they are, they’re still worried about all the negative things that could happen. Worrying about all of the what if’s. Pessimism is universal, it’s human nature to dwell on the worst outcomes of things. So, I stay silent, knowing that it’s probably best to stay that way for Maroon’s sake.

I see a lake and a person with curly turquoise hair, who I assume is Turquoise. They reach behind them and grab a stone before yeeting it with all their force towards the water, not even trying to skip them. A bag, which I hope is theirs, lays open next to the rock they’re sitting upon.

“Go get em, tiger.” I whisper before shoving Maroon towards them and running into the cover of the trees.

Turquoise turns to see Maroon stumbling in their direction, and blushes before fumbling to help the ‘damsel in distress’. Their hand goes underneath Maroon’s armpit to help the falling red-ish-head, and both blush.

I cannot hear them from where I sit, but I imagine that they’re both apologizing profusely to each other.

The duo goes over to the rock by the water and the bag, Maroon sitting first because Turquoise is quite the gentleperson.

They talk for awhile, and I debate on walking away because the sun’s going down and it’s getting cold. But, then I see Turquoises shoulder’s tense in a way that signals that they’re about to admit something.

After a few seconds, Turquoise reaches into their bag, and I have to squint to see what they pull out. From what I can see, it’s a bouquet of pink wildflowers, and my heart melts slightly for them.

Even though I can’t hear what they’re saying, the confusion on Maroon’s face is apparent. I can tell that Turquoise is really anxious too. They say something and Maroon brings their hands up to their mouth in shock. Oh no. That is not a good sign at all. Turquoise says something else, slightly louder, because I can hear it. I still can’t make out the words though. Maroon shakes their head, their mouth still covered. They’re shivering now.

Are they crying? If Turquoise broke Maroon’s heart with pink flowers at hand, I swear to god-

Turquoise is mostly shouting now, and I can finally make out the words.

“Yes! It is true! I’m not lying! I’ve completely and utterly fallen for you, Maroon. I’ve been waiting to confess to you for the longest time! I love you with all my heart, what can’t you see?” I can tell by the tone of their voice that they’re telling the truth.

Maroon just grasps their shirt and tugs them towards them, Turquoise closing the gap slowly, building tension between the lovers. Maroon brings their open hand up to lace into Turquoise’s curls. At the same time, Turquoise wraps their fingers around Maroon’s hips in order to pull them even closer in the already tight space. Just looking at it makes me feel slightly claustrophobic.

After they’re done, Maroon picks up Turquoise and spins them around, visibly ecstatic. I smile thoughtfully. Looks like Maroon got exactly what they always dreamed of; a knight in shining armor.

Poodle holds open the door to the cafeteria for me, and I’m instantly hit with the worst smell on earth. I nod them a ‘thank you’ before walking in. Thankfully I didn’t gag this year like I did last.

To be fair, I did a bit more than- ehrm- gag last year, persay. But I, uh, won’t go into too much detail about it.

The line is fairly short, considering that most people would rather die than even smell the food, and I feel lucky to be numb to the taste of utter shit. I know that this wouldn’t last long, though, as everybody will eventually get tired of hunger and give into the devil’s slop that the lunch maties serve.

Once we get to the front of the line, Poodle lets go of my hand. I guess I didn’t realize how much I loved the contact, because I already miss the feeling of our interlocked fingers. We both grab a styrofoam tray and get a good helping of whatever they’re serving. Once we’re out of the line, Poodle turns to me and asks:

“You wanna sit outside?” I smile.

“Yeah.” They smile back.

Once we’re out of the stuffy calfeteria, Poodle shifts their tray to one hand. They reach out their hand slightly and I realize what they want. I move my tray as well, because I think want it too. Once my right hand is free, they reach out and grab my hand needily.

Poodle POV

I melt the second I touch their hand. It’s only been about three minutes since I was last holding it, but god did I miss it. I look over to see them smiling at the ground. Their smile is really contagious.

“Okay, let’s find somewhere to sit.” I use a soft tone. They nod their head and blush. How am I pulling this off?

“C’mon.” I guide them across the pavilion and towards the forest. We keep walking until we reach the lake in the middle of the forest.

Pitbull stops for a second, and I see a flicker of recognition in their eyes. I step back to where they are and lean closer to them.

“You okay?” I ask, rubbing my thumb over their hand. My heart is beating so fast from being so close to them. They swallow and nod, giving me a small but genuine smile.

“That’s good. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t.” Move over peanut butter, I’m the new smoothest thing in town. Pitbull smiles a little more and glances up at me with a look in their eyes I think I’ll always remember.

We make our way down to the shore and sit down. The view of the lake is almost as gorgeous than the person sitting next to me. They're staring out at the lake with an unreadable expression.

“I really like your glasses.” I break the silence by blurting out a compliment.

I wonder why they never wear them. They're round rimmed with a rose gold frame. They deeply contrast my thick black square frames. The way the light catches through the lenses makes their freckles noticeable, and their eyes even more breathtaking.

“Oh- Thank you.” They stutter, blessing me with another blush and small smile. Somehow, I manage not to start crying from how beautiful they are.

“Of course~” HowamIpullingthisoff??? Instead of responding, they just look away with a shrug and shove a spoonful of the- what even is it? Sewage? Into their mouth.

I look down at my own tray of disgusting-whatever-this-is and grimace. I know I’ll have to eat it anyway. To get it over with, I pinch my nose and shovel it all down. Despite the taste being mostly masked, there is a bit of the revolting flavour. I shiver in disgust. I might throw up. I look to my left and see that Pitbull has finished already, watching me with a face of utter amusement. I feel my face flush.

“Glad to see that I’m not the only one who hates this stuff.” They giggle, and It’s the most beautiful sound that I’ve ever heard. So beautiful, in fact, that I find myself laughing with them.

“God help the man that does.” I say after we calm down a bit, and they chuckle in agreement with me.

After that, we get up and walk back to camp hand in hand, our disgusting trays in my right hand. The birds chirping quietly around us, and the most terrible taste in the back of my throat. I sigh, knowing that this is probably the last calm moment I’ll get for a while, with the mud run and all. Because of this, I enjoy this quiet moment even more.

Pitbull POV

Once we get back to the pavilion, the counselors are rounding everyone up for an announcement, and we see our absolute favorite counselor standing on a table with their whistle in their mouth. I brace myself for impact as they blow it like a dick, releasing the second loudest noise known to man, the first being Dan Howell screaming.

We scramble to the nearest seat, really not wishing to hear that noise twice in a row for the sake of our eardrums.

“Howdy campers! Are you guys ready for today’s activity?” She screams at us, her smile radiating with big satanic energy, and we all mumble our agreements quickly, not wanting a repeat of yesterday’s events. “We’re doing a mud run! Now go get changed and meet me at the end of trail #4.”

We all hurry away, and not because we’re eager for the activity. Poodle and I seperate in the crowd, and it’s too chaotic for me to look for them as of right now, so I just push towards my cabin so I can get this over with quickly.

Grabbing my ugliest tee shirt and shorts, I just change in the room because the pair hasn’t arrived yet, probably busy making out with each other somewhere. I also opt to lose the hat because I don’t want it to get ruined, pulling my hair up into a ponytail instead.

I open my phone and look myself over in the camera. I look like one of those people that works out at 6am, which makes me laugh slightly underneath my breath as I put my phone down onto my bed. I grab a pair of dollar store flip flops and jog out the door to go to Poodle’s cabin.

I reach said cabin and knock on the door three times, jumping slightly in excitement. I really really really want to hold Poodle’s hand, and it’s at least a 30 minute walk to where we’re supposed to be going.

The door opens to reveal Poodle, and I smile widely at them.

“Ready to go?” I ask, kissing their cheek randomly because that’s who I am now, apparently.

“After you, my lord.” They reply, taking my hand and kissing it while I just blush slightly, rolling my eyes and pulling them towards trail #4.

We walk in silence after that, our hands swinging between us every once in a while.

I’m not ready for what’s at the end of the trail.

A wall with four ropes on both sides of it sits in the middle of a huge mud lake. On one side, there’s tires and monkey bars, and on the other there’s a series of nets. I’m just thanking god that I took the annoying lady seriously.

After about five minutes of waiting, we call roll.

“Each of you will start at the end of the run with the tires, four at a time. You will be timed, and 30 seconds will be added to your time if you mess up or hit another one of the players. Your goal is to have the shortest time out of all the teams. Now, you and your partner have to stand together in line. Go!” A male counselor says before blowing his whistle, and we all obey immediately.

Luckily, Poodle and I are first in line, so we don’t have to wait long. Unfortunately, though, we’re with our besties, Corgi and Bulldog. I would know those piercing eyes anywhere.

“On the mark, campers!” The announcer booms.

“We’re going to destroy you guys.” Corgi snarls.

“Get set. . .”

“I’d like to see you try.” I growl back.

A gun goes off, and I run as fast as I can, zoning out. Adrenaline coursing through my veins as I complete the course.

Before I can even comprehend it, it’s all over and I’m standing next to Poodle, Bulldog, and Corgi, the winners being announced.

Poodle got first, Bulldog second, and me third. Corgi got 5th, but I wasn’t really in focus until after everybody was gone.

It was probably the shove that did the job.

“You cheated!” Corgi screams.

“Bullshit!” I yell back, too high on adrenaline too care about anything, shoving them even harder back. This just earns me a knuckle sandwich to the jaw.

Oh, it’s on now.

“Hey.” Poodle says sternly, grabbing my hand before I can give the other party any real damage, like I want to. I soften slightly, becoming a bit more rational again.

“I’m not fighting you.” I reply strongly, looking down towards Corgi, lowering my arm.

“Why, because you’ll lose.” They snarl, trying to get my blood to boil.

“Because what’s the point in fighting if both of you are going to lose.” Poodle begins. “Look around, buddy. You’ve lost. So what? You’re going to pick a fight with the first person you see? Why can’t y’all just call a truce or something.”

“Fine, I’ll truce you.” They mumble after taking in Poodle’s words for a few minutes, holding out their hand. I grasp their hand strongly, asserting dominance and shaking it in agreeance. “But this doesn’t mean that we’re friends.”

“Didn’t plan on it meaning that we were friends, buddy.” I reply, earning a glare from Poodle.

We part ways, Corgi giving me the ‘sassy’ hips and Bulldog loudly congratulating themselves, saying that the system was probably rigged because they didn’t get first place. We wait a few moments, waiting until we can’t hear Bulldog, before we continue behind them.

There’s a lot of handholding on the way back, like there was on the way there, but this time we’re complaining about how we both really need showers because the mud is extremely uncomfortable.

“We should take a shower together.” Poodle jokes.

“Conserve water. Save the turtles.” I joke back.

We continue joking about taking a shower together for ‘environmental benefits’. We even joke before we part to get our clothes, and joke when we join again. We joke until we actually get into the showers.

“Should we actually take a shower together?” Poodle jokingly asks, but I don’t think that it’s half bad of an idea after really thinking about it.

“Sure, why not?” I say, grabbing their hand and leading them into the biggest stall.

“W-what?” They sputter out, not sure if I’m joking or not.

“To save the turtles.” I state jokingly, but look at them in a way that lets them know that I’m not actually joking, but am totally okay if they don’t want to.

“To save the turtles.” They giggle, stepping in with me shyly, and I smirk, pulling the curtain closed.

I place our clothes onto the bench after taking Poodle’s, and start stripping, with my back turned to them, starting with my shirt. As I unbuckle my pants, I feel a warm hand brush the dirt off of my shoulders, and it would’ve startled me if I wasn’t familiar with it’s heat.

As quickly as it was there, it’s gone, but I hear the faucet release liquid.

I hurry up on getting undressed, sick of the grime upon my skin, before getting into the shower with my back still turned to them, not wishing to make them uncomfortable.

After a couple of minutes, a tap makes its presence known on my shoulder, and I turn around to meet its source. Green eyes look at me, clearly nervous. I step aside, allowing them to go beneath the domesticated rain. They accept my invitation gracefully, looking up to allow the water access to their skin.

Watching the dirt come off of them is satisfying, to say the least. The way it slowly goes away, running down towards the drain in gentle streams against an equally gentle human being. Small streams of water run down their cheeks, shoulders, and back when they’re not directly beneath the source.

After a few minutes, they turn to me, not knowing what to do next. I turn away, grabbing a bottle of lavender soap and squirting some into my free hand.

I put the bottle down and begin to rub my hands together to create bubble, dancing as I do to get Poodle to laugh, of which they do. I then take the mixture and begin to lather the other half’s hair.

I finally get to lace my fingers between the blonde ringlets, even if they are a bit loser now that they’re wet. I’m careful to be gentle, but I still make sure I’m being thorough.

After I’m completed, I look up and blow a bubble with my hand. Poodle looks at me dumbfounded, jaw slightly agape.

“Want to learn how to do it?” I ask them, and they nod eagerly.

I wash off my hands before grabbing the bottle again, this time squirting some into Poodle’s hands instead of mine. I put their hands together, placing my hands over the back of each other and making them do a rubbing motion, slowly getting sillier until they laugh.

“Now, take you hand and put it into a fist and then make it an ‘okay’ sign. Blow through the part of your hand that looks like a circle.” I instruct them, and they do exactly as I say, getting a bubble.

They giggle, and do it a few more times. Everytime looking at me for assurance that they’re doing it right.

After they stop blowing bubbles, they take their already soaped up hands and begin to run their fingers into my hair softly. So soft, in fact, that I barely notice it.

When they’re done, I wash it out and turn off the water, the two of us going to dry off and get dressed.

Eventually, we end up in my cabin with wet heads and tired eyes. We cuddle up together and fall asleep.

Today’s a free day, so Poodle and I stay at my cabin while Maroon and Turquoise go mess around somewhere. Poodle’s on their phone while I’m reading my book.

“Pibble.” Poodle starts after a couple hours of comfortable silence, and I make a humming noise from where I’m sitting, indicating that they have my attention as they put down their phone. “I have something to confess.”

“Well, what is it?” I ask after they pause for too long, placing my bookmark in my book and closing it, setting it on the floor beside me.

“I can’t tell you. Not yet. In three hours I will, but not now.” They reply, hurrying off before I could say much else, leaving me alone with a million of unanswered questions and prodding thoughts.

So, around the room I pace, checking the time every 10 seconds, knowing that today’s the day that I am going to confess as well, though it’s probably something else.

I’m feeling nervous at Poodle’s wording, and time’s almost up. What do they want to confess to me? I mean, I’m no priest, and I don’t plan on being one anytime soon.

I suppose that the nerves aren’t completely Poodle’s fault though, because today is the day that I’m going to confess. I go to leave my cabin and look for Poodle.

Before I can do that, though, I run directly into said person.

I can’t process what’s happening because I’m met with the most striking eyes I’ve ever seen. Is this the same Poodle that I’ve come to fall in love with?

Their eyes are a breathtaking green laced with turquoise. They’re warm and soft. Nothing at all like Corgi’s sharp, dangerous ones.

How have I never noticed them before? Now that I’m so close, I can see other small things I’d never picked up on before.

Like the way their curly hair falls so effortlessly across their forehead, so perfect and blonde and loopy. The small ringlets are just begging me to lace my fingers delicately through them. To allow them to be what pulls me closer to their holder’s face.

Like how their nose tapers to a perfect point, holding their glasses elegantly. Even if they will get in the way when I hold them close.

Like how their lips show their plumpness even when they’re curled up into a sort of half smile. Their lips are perfect, not chapped or cracked in anyway, and probably feel slightly damp when touched. I imagine that they’d taste like strawberries when kis-

“You okay, Pit?” Their smooth voice cuts through my unreasonable thoughts. I can feel their breath. It still smells like cinnamon. I turn red, realizing I’d been staring at them for far too long.

“O-oh, uh, I-I-” My anxiety stops the words from coming out. I’ve made an utter fool of myself.

Not bothering to explain, I shove them away from me and slam the door in their face, turning the lock before they even get the chance to spit out any questions.

Why did I do that? They have to hate me now. They have to be mad at me. Why wouldn’t they be? Not only did I run into them without apology, but I also shoved them and slammed the door into their face.

I don't even bother to climb up the ladder instead grabbing my pillow and launching myself onto the floor. I violently grab my pillow and hold it close to my face, tears leaving my eyes as if the dirt orbs on my face were sprinklers.

I feel the anxiety eat me alive. My airway begins to close as I sob harder and harder. I pull my legs towards my face as far as they’ll go and gripping my hair with my hands, entering the fetal part of my anxiety attack.

There’s pounding against the wooden door, but at this point it might just be my heart because it’s beating so fast. If this doesn’t kill me, I don’t know what will.

I feel like I’m drowning on air.

Poodle POV

Pitbull’s clearly not going to open the door, but I keep pounding and trying the knob every three seconds, my fists throbbing in pain. It’s only when my knuckles begin to bleed do I stop, instead pacing and looking for a spare key or an open window.

I flick the window that I came through last night, my final hope. No answer. I flick it again and again, met with the same result every time.

I guess Pitbull just hates me. I don’t know what I did, maybe it was something that I said, but they hate me. That’s the only explanation that makes sense at this point in time.

I sigh, putting my head in my hands and slowly sliding down the wall next to the glass, completely defeated. I don’t know who I’ll spend the rest of my life with.

After a few minutes or hours or however long it’s been, I pull myself up off of the ground. My shattered heart stabs into my throat, but all I can do is hold back tears. I swallow my emotions the best I can before walking to my cabin to get extra clothes before heading to the showers.

Life is dull, slow, and useless. My feet feel heavier than my breath, both of which weigh me down. I shiver slightly, even though it’s probably 90 degrees Farenheit out, the sun glowing dully between the clouds. I drag my shoes through the dirt as I walk, feeling like an emotional zombie.

I take the nearest shower, tossing my spare clothes onto the bench before turning the shower on.

I harshly rip my clothes off of my body and the shoes off of my feet before stepping beneath the warm water.

Or so I thought it’d be warm considering it’s been heating up for at least 5 minutes.

I crank the heat onto the faucet until it can no longer produce hotter water. And then it dawns upon me.

It’s not the shower that’s cold, it’s me.

I glance down to my scarred knuckles, no longer covered in blood because it’s been washed but still littered with deep purple bruises and obvious cuts.

My mind flashes back to Pitbull. The way their nose holds their glasses so delicately, how their freckles dance across their face in the sun, how their hands perfectly in mine, how they would smile and blush when I complimented them, how cold they looked when they slammed the door on me. It makes my broken heart ache.

It’s then, and only then, do I allow the sobs to leave my body.

I take my hands to muffle the sound the best I can, not wanting to be caught or disturb anybody else who may be in here with me.

My entire body shakes violently with the first round of tears, and it only goes down from there. After a few seconds, my knees become too weak to hold me, giving out beneath me. So, I sob on the floor instead of on my feet.

I guess it’s just better this way.

[madamemerola]

✨IMAGE REDEFINED. 📩To all the Ladies struggling with their self image, this post is for you. I remember when this title (IMAGE REDEFINED) dropped in my spirit to write about how many people have a wrong or poor image of themselves and the need to redefine image. The book is well past it’s due date but I know it’s because there are still things I need to include in it for it to be just right for who ever reads it. ➡️ Looking at this picture of myself, I remember growing up and being made to feel overtly self conscious about my forehead. I just couldn’t understand what was wrong with my forehead shape but because of all the snide comments, I always chose hairstyles that “hid” my forehead. ✅Now, knowing what I know and having redefined image for myself, I boldly and confidently flaunt my forehead that is beautifully proportional with my face shape and head. 💛I love, love, love my forehead and everything about my face and head, including my natural hair, in its natural colour. And guess what? ➡️You will think that for someone who is a certified Image Consultant and an International Makeup Artistry Professional for over 20 years, I would not have hang ups about the way I look. ❌ WRONG. 💜I still have days I look in the mirror and all I see are the flaws magnified. I have to stare at myself and talk kindly and lovingly to myself until the image of me that I know God sees is what is reflecting back at me. ✨I am a work in progress. So are you. I am a great Image and Personal Branding Specialist and Confidence Coach but that doesn’t mean I am perfect and have all the answers. I just know how to transform people including myself whenever the need arises. 📌So anytime you feel less than you actually are, recognize that it is normal and remind yourself of WHO YOU TRULY ARE; A B.A.N.G (Beautiful/Bold, Audacious, No Excuses, God’s Masterpiece). In a world that celebrates a false ideology of Image, beauty and perfection, I celebrate originality and true beauty in its flawsome and vulnerable state. 📌IMAGE REDEFINED to be what I say it is for me. What is Image to you? XoXo from #madamemerola #thebangcreator #imagecoach #beautyredefined #selfreflectioniskey (at OWN YOUR Image) https://www.instagram.com/p/CVWO_Evjn-h/?utm_medium=tumblr

[borderline5150]

I have joined several groups for Borderline Personality Disorder since joining tumbler. I have been able to relate to 99 percent of what is posted. It comforts me to know that I'm not the only one that has to contend with the voices that sound just like my own and whisper to me "No one can be trusted. Your not worthy of happiness. He doesn't really love you". With that said, my life is not all bad, in fact its pretty fucking rad. Yes, on occasion I spin out like a top at full speed before I crash but the differnece today is I have insight into why I process information this way. I understand the problem isn't the poor soul that dares to love me. Its ME. Im the common denominator. My brain and my past experiences have a way of twisting current reality into some toxic interaction that I often witness in the third person. I hurt people I love and am immediately sorry yet fuck you defensive at the same time. Its exhausting to say the least. Yet I am not unhappy in fact I'm over paid on a daily. Without darkness I cannot have light. It is in my suffering that I grow and learn the most. If I listen I will hear the solution. Im on the most amazing journey of my life. No longer mommy. My kids are off learning their own lessons now. No longer a well known professional with a great reputation I never felt I was worthy of. A poser if you will. I am living my most authentic life ever. I have a partner that gets me because he struggles just like I do. He loves me unconditionally and is willing to walk this journey, albeit tumultuous, by my side without judgement but with love and empathy. I am autonomous and I can be just ME. I am not BPD. Its a part of me but its not who I am. When your feeling down or negative just remember this is just a chapter. A moment and the moment is gone. What happened is behind us. We are all FLAWSOME in our own beautiful way So BLOOM ON MY BEAUTIFUL BORDERLINE BEAUTIES.

[damsoulindistress]

Dear Digital Me, with Love.

Blog Entry: Digital vs. Social Self

In the good old days, where people had real conversations and real life connections, how will we be able to live the life we love today when everything is now digitalized. Even friends and relationships have been completely transformed as years go by and as technology evolves, but I just have one question in mind, in this digital world that we live in, how will we be able to establish ourselves and make the difference we all long to have?

Eversince those social media became a thing, it has been more and more of a pressure to each and every young adult wanting to reinvent themselves. How pressuring it is when we are expected to have the best representation of ourselves through our facebook profiles, when we are in need to have all the social media accounts there is, facebook, instagram, twitter, and the list goes on and on. Literally, it is not ‘needed’ but being teenagers, we tend to follow the trend and become our own social media personalities.

Growing up, I really wanted to fit in. I wanted to have a lot of friends, a lot of good photos and likes from other people thinking, these likes help me be more confident. But being at the age right now where I have already experience a lot of things outside social media, I have come to realize that having social media account is not bad at all, it just depends on how we use them. Are we gonna use them to reinvent ourself being the 'perfect social person’ everyone will love, or are we going to be those 'voices’ unheard, that is up for us to decided.

Being able to have a growing social media influence is not just something we should brag about. It is more of a responsibility to show our true selves and be able to use it as a platform of what we truly stand for. Social media is just a tool, it is not a universe where we live as an entirely different human being.

I have all the social media known today, twitter, facebook, instagram, you name it, I have it (except for those dating apps lol). When I was younger, I just wanted to be normal, apparently, that is what 'normal’ is to our society today. But as I grew older, social media had been my best friend, there was something about them that made me feel good so I got really hooked to using them. But as I was able to face the cruelty of the real world, I have come to battle my insecurities by the use of social media. It has become my platform to show how incredibly flawsome I am yet I am still worth the love. It has become my voice and my armor to win my daily battles. I admit, I am dependent to social media but I am a responsible influencer of positivity and an advocate of social awareness. Everything will all jolt down to how we maximize the influence that we have, it is by then we know that we have served our purpose and at the same time follow the trend in a positive manner.

[themostawesomebitch]

I've been stalking you for weeks now and I am fascinated by the way you transform your thoughts into words. I love your writing style and you awaken the inner writer in me. Can you do me a favor and share to me how you became this flawsome? I need some tips and advice on how to be a good writer. thank you in advance! God bless.

Thank you so much. I’ve just gotten back after months of suffering the writer’s block so receiving messages like this makes me really happy. Knowing that my words have affected you in a good way inspires me to do better. I am not sure what kind of tips you are looking for but what I am about to tell you is pretty much the same answer as what I have given to some anonymous people who asked for the same thing.

I think the most common but effective tip that I could give is you should read. It doesn’t matter what it is. You can read novels or collections of poems. You can read comics or short stories. You can read fan fictions or blog posts. Reading will expose you to different writing styles and in that way, you will know what works best for you. It will also improve your grammar and vocabulary. One of my favorite writers is Iain S. Thomas. I admire him for being able to write short pieces using simple words yet being able to give so much impact to his readers. In tumblr, Meggie Royer’s and RID’s posts are what I am always waiting for. I guess, I am attached to their style and their ideas as well.

Writing requires a lot of thinking. I think it’s best that you give yourself time to think. Some alone time in a coffee shop or a park won’t hurt. However, don’t be too hard on yourself when nothing comes to mind. I believe that the best ideas arrive when you least expect them. When they come, you should be prepared to jot them down on a notebook or type them on your phone. Don’t rely on your memories because you will always forget and even when you remember, it might not be the same thought as before. So if ever you had a line or a plot in mind, take note of it. Personally, I tweet it. If ever you follow me on twitter, you will see some excerpts from my prose that I posted even before I publish the long version. I guess, it’s my way of not forgetting it. Whatever works for you is fine.

When it comes to inspiration, you can get it everywhere. Mostly, we write about our personal experiences but there are times that we can write something that we haven’t really experienced first hand. A single song or a movie can inspire you to write a lot of poems or prose. Conversations with your friends or overheard chit chats could also be a good prompt. I guess you just have to be open with everything and when you feel that you can actually write something about it, don’t let the opportunity go.

At the end of the day, you just write it out. It could be good or bad for others. People may appreciate or criticize it. You should be open to this possibility specially when you consider to publish them in the internet like I do. However, the one whose opinion that should matter is yours. Because it is your own feelings, stories and thoughts. You were the one who spent some time to decipher the words that could help you send that message to the world. What you should ask yourself after finishing a piece is “Was I able to say what I wanted to say?”. Every time I finish something, I read it from a stranger’s point of view and I’d assess myself if I was able to give the impact that I was aiming for. We should be our own critics.

I am not saying that I am a good writer. There’s still so much to learn and so much to explore. However, what I am proud of is that I am brave enough to create something that I can call mine and I put it out here for some people to read. Messages like yours and compliments from my friends are just the cherries on top.

I hope that I helped you somehow. I wish nothing but the best for you in your writing. And I hope that I could read some of your pieces in the future.

Thank you so much and God bless you.

[psychotherapyconsultants]

Use These 3 Mantras to Stop Comparing Yourself to Others

“A flower does not think of competing with the flower next to it. It just blooms.” — Zen Shen

Wow, you’re a bit of a loser compared to this guy, aren’t you, Will?

He’s winning at life—great job, great house, obviously making better money than you.

I sigh deeply and continue scrolling.

He takes care of himself, no Buddha belly, unlike you.

It’s true. I begin to feel like a useless lump. I keep scrolling.

No yellow and crooked teeth, either.

“His teeth are pretty straight,” I think to myself, staring at the guy’s mouth on the screen.

Damn right, they’re straight, like tic-tacs coming out of his gums. Perfect and white, not like yours.

I sigh once again and continue to scroll on Facebook.

Above is a typical dialogue between what I refer to as my Gremlin and me.

Does this voice sound familiar to you?

I’m talking about the troublesome terror that pops up like an unwelcome guest at the front door.

This nasty voice that loves to commentate and condemn—the voice that leaves us feeling unworthy and inferior, if we listen long enough. This, my friends, is the Gremlin of Self-Comparison.

I imagine how different an exchange would unfold if it were another person (outside of my head) giving me the bashing.

If, for example, I was sitting on a park bench and a complete stranger walked up to me and said, ”Hey loser,” before pointing out how those around were superior to me. I imagine I’d walk off confused and leave this stranger alone after his unprovoked attack.

”Who is he to talk about me like that? He doesn’t even know me!” I would say to myself as I walk off.

I’d tell myself he must be deeply unhappy to treat other people this way, and I certainly wouldn’t take his comments to heart.

Most of us wouldn’t. We’d either ignore such criticism or defend ourselves.

So, here is the million-dollar question: Why do we accept talking to ourselves like this?

My belief is this: because it feels real, and we believe we are the voice. The truth is, however, we’re the listener, not the speaker.

But the voice of the Gremlin seems like a credible source. I mean, the voice comes from inside of us, why wouldn’t we trust it?

It helps to understand why we compare in the first place.

We are programmed that way. Comparing ourselves to others is a natural and inherent instinct. In prehistoric times this innate ability allowed us to swiftly analyze others and identify possible threats, yet in today’s society these quick critiques could be causing harm rather than preventing it.

Let’s face it: Facebook and Instagram newsfeeds are perfect catalysts for those episodes of self-pity and dissatisfaction, when we’re staring at our phone screens alone late at night, admiring how well everyone else seems to be doing.

We have to wonder, who are the newsfeeds feeding?

Could it be our Gremlins? Our insecurities? Our ego?

It dawned on me a while ago that I will never win playing the game of self-comparison.

No matter how much money I make, there will always be someone richer.

Even if I get in better shape, there will always be someone fitter and stronger.

But just knowing these things doesn’t mean I am able to stop comparing myself to others. I’ve had to accept my Gremlin is here to stay.

So what’s the alternative to trying to win against the Self-Comparison Gremlin?

I do my best to live by the following three mantras, as they serve me well in living with my Gremlin. Not “beating” or “silencing” my Gremlin. Living with him.

1. If I’m Going to Compare, I Will Compare Who I Am Today With Who I Was in the Past.

We’re forever growing, learning, and achieving. However, we fail to recognize and celebrate this when we’re listening to the Gremlin and concentrating on other people’s lives. Compared to who I was in the past, today I’m happier, wiser, and stronger. I’ve overcome anxiety, debt, disappointments, and heartbreak, and you know what? I’m still here.

We’ve all had challenges and we’re all still here. When we rate ourselves by the accomplishments of others, we overlook our own successes.

There’s one risk in comparing our current selves to our past selves: When revisiting the past, I may recognize that some areas of my life were better previously than they are now. I then have a choice. If I want to improve this area, I’ll set a goal. If right now I don’t wish to change, I’ll accept where I am. But what I won’t do is focus on everyone else’s progress and feel bad about myself as a result.

2. The People I’m Comparing Myself to Are Not Flawless.

No matter how infallible and perfect others may seem, I’ll bet good money they have their Gremlins too. We are all equal in life. I’m no better than anybody else but I’m certainly not any worse. It’s important to remember that social media is only a highlight reel.

We all know real life is far more messy, raw, and flawed.

This is the beauty of being human.

3. I Love and Accept Myself as I Am Right Now (Including My Gremlin).

Our Gremlins mean us well. Really, they’re trying to protect us by identifying areas where we may be “falling behind.” They’re only cruel because they’re scared—that we’ll somehow miss out if we don’t keep up with other people.

I named mine Colin. What I find helpful about naming the voice is I’m able to check in and ask, “Okay, who is talking up there? Is this my trail of thought or is Colin going off on one?” The more I learn to love Colin and appreciate his good intentions, the less he pops up. When he does, I thank him and send him a little love for being a part of me. I let him know I hear him, although I may not choose to listen.

I do my best to accept myself as I am, with my Buddha belly and less than perfect teeth. Because our imperfections make us who we are. My new favorite word currently is flawsome—meaning we are all awesome despite our flaws. Cool, right?

Wouldn’t life be boring if we were all exactly the same? Plus, if we were all exactly the same, perhaps there wouldn’t be any more Gremlins, and to be honest, I kind of like mine now.

This article courtesy of Tiny Buddha.

from World of Psychology https://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2017/07/11/use-these-3-mantras-to-stop-comparing-yourself-to-others/

[sarahburness]

What Helps Me When I’m Tempted to Compare Myself to Others

“A flower does not think of competing with the flower next to it. It just blooms.” ~Zen Shen

Wow, you’re a bit of a ;oser compared to this guy, aren’t you, Will?

He’s winning at life—great job, great house, obviously making better money than you.

I sigh deeply and continue scrolling.

He takes care of himself, no Buddha belly, unlike you.

It’s true. I begin to feel like a useless lump. I keep scrolling.

No yellow and crooked teeth, either.

“His teeth are pretty straight,” I think to myself, staring at the guy’s mouth on the screen.

Damn right, they’re straight, like tic-tacs coming out of his gums. Perfect and white, not like yours.                                                                                                                     

I sign once again and continue to scroll on Facebook.

—

Above is a typical dialogue between what I refer to as my Gremlin and me.

Does this voice sound familiar to you?

I’m talking about the troublesome terror that pops up like an unwelcome guest at the front door.

This nasty voice that loves to commentate and condemn—the voice that leaves us feeling unworthy and inferior, if we listen long enough. This, my friends, is the Gremlin of Self-Comparison.

I Imagine how different an exchange would unfold if it were another person (outside of my head) giving me the bashing.

If, for example, I was sitting on a park bench and a complete stranger walked up to me and said, ”Hey loser,” before pointing out how those around were superior to me. I imagine I’d walk off confused and leave this stranger alone after his unprovoked attack.

”Who is he to talk about me like that? He doesn’t even know me!” I would say to myself as I walk off.

I’d tell myself he must be deeply unhappy to treat other people this way, and I certainly wouldn’t take his comments to heart.

Most of us wouldn’t. We’d either ignore such criticism or defend ourselves.

So, here is the million-dollar question: Why do we accept talking to ourselves like this?

My belief is this: because it feels real, and we believe we are the voice. The truth is, however, we’re the listener, not the speaker.

But the voice of the Gremlin seems like a credible source. I mean, the voice comes from inside of us, why wouldn’t we trust it?

It’s helps to understand why we compare in the first place.

We are programmed that way. Comparing ourselves to others is a natural and inherent instinct. In prehistoric times this innate ability allowed us to swiftly analyze others and identify possible threats, yet in today’s society these quick critiques could be causing harm rather than preventing it.

Let’s face it: Facebook and Instagram newsfeeds are perfect catalysts for those episodes of self-pity and dissatisfaction, when we’re staring at our phone screens alone late at night, admiring how well everyone else seems to be doing.

We have to wonder, who are the newsfeeds feeding?

Could it be our Gremlins? Our insecurities? Our ego?

It dawned on me a while ago that I will never win playing the game of self-comparison.

No matter how much money I make, there will always be someone richer.

Even if I get in better shape, there will always be someone fitter and stronger.

But just knowing these things doesn’t mean I am able to stop comparing myself to others. I’ve had to accept my Gremlin is here to stay.

So what’s the alternative to trying to win against the Self-Comparison Gremlin?

I do my best to live by the following three mantras, as they serve me well in living with my Gremlin. Not “beating” or “silencing” my Gremlin. Living with him.

1. If I’m going to compare, I will compare who I am today with who I was in the past.

We’re forever growing, learning, and achieving. However, we fail to recognize and celebrate this when we’re listening to the Gremlin and concentrating on other people’s lives. Compared to who I was in the past, today I’m happier, wiser, and stronger. I’ve overcome anxiety, debt, disappointments, and heartbreak, and you know what? I’m still here.

We’ve all had challenges and we’re all still here. When we rate ourselves by the accomplishments of others, we overlook our own successes.

There’s one risk in comparing our current selves to our past selves: When revisiting the past, I may recognize that some areas of my life were better previously than they are now. I then have a choice. If I want to improve this area, I’ll set a goal. If right now I don’t wish to change, I’ll accept where I am. But what I won’t do is focus on everyone else’s progress and feel bad about myself as a result.

2. The people I’m comparing myself to are not flawless.

No matter how infallible and perfect others may seem, I’ll bet good money they have their Gremlins too. We are all equal in life. I’m no better than anybody else but I’m certainly not any worse. It’s important to remember that social media is only a highlight reel.

We all know real life is far more messy, raw, and flawed.

This is the beauty of being human.

3. I love and accept myself as I am right now (including my Gremlin).

Our Gremlins mean us well. Really, they’re trying to protect us by identifying areas where we may be “falling behind.” They’re only cruel because they’re scared—that we’ll somehow miss out if we don’t keep up with other people.

I named mine Colin. What I find helpful about naming the voice is I’m able to check in and ask, “Okay, who is talking up there? Is this my trail of thought or is Colin going off on one?” The more I learn to love Colin and appreciate his good intentions, the less he pops up. When he does, I thank him and send him a little love for being a part of me. I let him know I hear him, although I may not choose to listen.

I do my best to accept myself as I am, with my Buddha belly and less than perfect teeth. Because our imperfections make us who we are. My new favorite word currently is flawsome—meaning we are all awesome despite our flaws. Cool, right?

Wouldn’t life be boring if we were all exactly the same? Plus, if we were all exactly the same, perhaps there wouldn’t be any more Gremlins, and to be honest, I kind of like mine now.

About Will Aylward

Will Aylward lives to help others and spends his days coaching people to become more confident in themselves and their ability. Will's loves are travel, drinking good coffee, turning strangers into friends, and making music. Will lives in Germany with his partner (in crime), Yvonne. Visit him at willaylward.com.

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The post What Helps Me When I’m Tempted to Compare Myself to Others appeared first on Tiny Buddha.

from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/helps-tempted-compare-myself-others/